


Clover

by Amae0404



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Dark, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Enemies to Lovers, Good Draco Malfoy, Multi, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Secret Relationship, Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28095240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amae0404/pseuds/Amae0404
Summary: Clover, a fellow red-headed cousin of the Weasleys, transfers to Hogwarts during her fourth year in hopes to find a second home (maybe third, after The Burrow of course).Instead of an easy journey, she embarks on an unpredictable one, once she falls in love with a a boy that no-one else does. She sacrifices everything in order to save him from veering down the wrong path towards the clutches of the Dark Lord.Even if the chance of the happy ending was slight, she would do anything.And she does.They may be from different sides of the ongoing fight, but that doesn't stop their journeys colliding together.Maybe its fate. Or maybe its a chain of unrelated events that lead to their unison.They do say that opposites attract.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my story, I hope you enjoy it. Updates posted every Saturday!

_"They say if you find a four-leaf clover you are destined for love, luck and hope. I never thought I would be given the luxury of ever finding this good omen. I would have never dreamed that my clover would be you." - Draco_


	2. Chapter 2

Muggles. Weird things aren't they? Their lives are so far from the ones we lead.

Chaos.

Stout men in tailored jackets running around peering at the watch on their one hand while the other held a sleek briefcase as they raced to the next meeting. Elegant women gracefully floated through the crowd in long skirts, clutching at their little leather bags and grinning with their crimson smiles. Stern porters stood straight at each post in plain uniforms that complemented their miserable faces perfectly. "Come on, we are going to miss the train!" were the words that left the mouth of a slight woman with long, silky brown hair, as a small boy struggled to keep up with her long strides. Wind whipped at their faces as a metal snake slithered up the tracks, stopping to open its jaw to willing prey. They foolishly accepted the sinister offer, leading them to a life of well..... normal. Expected. Monotonous.

Crowds.

It seems that I have stumbled in a place littered with them. The hive they move through to seek their golden honey. They're always moving. Rushing. Panicking. Their lives are always hurried, as they always have to move to the next stage, the next piece to the puzzle. Nearing its completion. They all seem to have an intention, a motive. A driving force that pushes them through the crowds, through the chaos, through the day. They never seem to stop. But at the same time they appear so still. The only way I can truly describe their lives is two-dimensional. Nothing to explore or discover. Well, at least that's what they thought.

I only get a glance at their lives through the few seconds I see of each but I am purely perplexed and intrigued. I feel as if I know so much about them, while they know nothing about me. And with the few seconds they hold within mine they are oblivious in the disparity between our lives. 

They may be a man and I may be a woman. They may be an adult whilst I am a child. But I am talking about something much bigger.

Unthinkable in their mundane brains.

What would they say if I said I lived in a whole other world?

Their world is predictable while ours is far from it.

Ours is filled with magic that twinkles throughout everyday. Wands and witches, brooms and beasts, spells and sparkles.

But as oblivious muggles flutter by, they are unbeknownst to what lay beneath the surface. If only they peered through, took a second to look, took a moment to think. Although, we should be grateful because their naivety of the world is what protects us from exposure.

They do say that ignorance is bliss.


	3. Chapter 3

While analysing the lives of the people that flew past was fun, there was something much more exciting planned for today. Definitely exciting. Maybe nerve wracking.

This platform was not the one that was going to restart my life and enter me into the most magical place in the world. Or in Ron's words _'the best bloody place ever'._

Oh sorry, I forgot that I haven't even begun to tell you about my life.

Ron's my cousin. To be exact, he is my mother's brother's son. One of seven children with hair as red and fiery as mine. While their cosy burrow was filled with children, I have no siblings of my own. I like it that way; I wouldn't say I'm great with people. But I still have a huge family to immerse myself in whenever I wish. I love them dearly and we are extremely close.

Well, we used to be.

You see, while Ron and his brothers, and of course Ginny, went to Hogwarts, I'd attended Beauxbatons. I thought it would be an amazing chance to mature and grow independent. It had been fun and all, but I just didn't really... fit in, you know what I mean? They are all just so graceful and elegant while I'm...me.

Plain old me. Nothing particularly extravagant or extraordinary, which didn't quite fit with the world I had been planted in.

You always need something boring to balance out the brilliance I guess. So now I am finally being a true Weasley, and going to Hogwarts. Ron had been there for three years, and he has always written to me about how amazing it is. From what I know, his experience has been filled with trauma, danger and darkness with the famous Harry Potter, which wasn't exactly comforting.

Nonetheless, Ron was certain that I would love it, he was adamant in fact and for once I agreed with him.

So here I am! On a frosty September morning, where the leaves have turned from emerald green to deep ruby and burnt orange, standing between platform nine and ten at Kings Cross Station.

The day had finally come, the day I'd been preparing for all summer and yet I feel far from ready. It had felt so far away into the future and suddenly it crept up on me and bit me on the...

Well, you could say I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"Clover! Clover, over here!" A smiley grin bobbed over the crowd, with a mane of that famous fiery hair. It was him. It was Ron. A smile struck along my face as I was thrown into a warm embrace.

Soon after, a pack of these not-so-fierce lions bounded through the crowd and reached us, pushing overflowing trolleys of worn cases and woolly bags.

Fred and George, the mischievous twins, striding along with their playful grins and infectious laughter. They always seemed to be planning their next outrageous prank. Percy held his head high like a noble soldier, brandishing his glimmering Head Boy badge. According to Ron, the power had gone straight to his head during the last year of school. Arthur was next, googling at the muggles and their funny clothes and peculiar motionless maps." Arthur stop gawking at muggles, we are going to be late for the train!" pleaded my auntie, Molly Weasley. She was the sweetest woman in the whole world, always knitting new cosy jumpers or cooking tasty food.

"It's just fascinating how they cope without magic. Look at their maps! They don't move!" replied Arthur.

"Oh! Clover, dear, I didn't see you there" said Molly, completely ignoring her husband's affections towards the muggles. She did this often.

Standing close to her side was Ginny, the youngest of the Weasley children, with her long, red hair tucked behind her ear. She'd already grown so much in her first years at Hogwarts, from a timid little girl into someone much braver. You could see the excitement of returning to school shining in her bright chocolate eyes.

_The prospect of Hogwarts never failed to bring joy, and we are suddenly so close to getting there._

They all stuck out like a saw thumb, but the unaware muggles took no notice.

My mother, Margot, placed her tender hand on my shoulder. She knew I'd been nervous, she had watched me all over summer frantically inspecting the equipment list a gazillion times, checking and double checking and triple checking my trunk that had been packed weeks in advance.

I was always told I was the splitting image of my mother. Her hair was as fearsome as mine, but her eyes were deep brown like freshly roasted chestnuts. My face was scattered with freckles, portraying it as a dot to dot, just like hers.

To my right stood my father, Robin, grinning widely. He had waited for this day to come since I was small, and had always wished I'd attend his beloved Hogwarts. My fathers hair was dirty blonde with piercing icy blue eyes. A muggle once told me he looked like a surfer, whatever they are. I had inherited those desired eyes.

"You'll be just fine, there is nothing to worry about. Ron will take care of you." whispered my mother in my ear as she turned to face me, hands on my shoulder as they gave me a comforting squeeze.

"Alright, you better get going, you don't want to be late on your first day!" my father laughed heartily. He was definitely more excited than I was.

"The twins can go first, dear, so you can see how it works. Don't worry, it's easy once you know how," Aunt Molly reassured me as she beckoned them to move forwards.

"See you on the other side, Clover" beamed Fred.

"Ready Fred?"

"Ready George."

They looked at each other one last time, before pushing their trolleys and sprinting to the thick bricked, seemingly solid post between platform nine and ten. Instead of crashing and toppling to the ground, they seamlessly paced through, and suddenly they were...

Gone.

Disappeared.

I glanced to the other side of the wall but they were nowhere to be found. Sure, I had seen magic before, many times in fact but it still surprised me all the same.

Not one person seemed to notice, no heads turned, no second glances.

_The muggles really are extremely oblivious._

"Alright dear, on you go. Running usually helps when you're new, no hesitation and it will go smoothly, you won't feel a thing!" assured Molly.

Although my nerves were astronomical, I couldn't help but be soothed by her reassuring tone. She always had the tendency to make people feel that way, to feel at home.

So I did exactly as she said. I positioned my trolley directly in front of the post, took one last check to make sure everything was securely fastened, especially my deep grey owl, Smokey, and I raced forwards, squeezing my eyes shut as I sprinted to my future.


	4. Chapter 4

I stopped.

Hesitantly, I peered to see my fate, and I found myself surrounded by cheerful chatter and billowing plumes of smoke escaping the turret of a ruby train. 

_I am on platform nine and three quarters!_

I moved forwards, giving in to the flow of the crowd. Great grins littered the faces of parents and children alike. 

Ron followed soon after me and made a beeline right through the crowd. Of course, I knew who he was looking for. His dearest friends; Hermione Granger, who was the cleverest in the year and Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. Surely, you don't need any explanation on who he is. He is arguably the most famous wizard in the world. The only person to ever survive the Avada Kedavra curse.

"Clover! I'm so excited you're finally here!" Hermione's arms wrapped around me and pulled me into a familiar hug. I had met them before, during one of their endless visits to The Burrow. Her bushy hair was scraped back into a messy pony, and it's waterfall cascaded down her back. Little curls escaped at the front and framed her face like a perfect picture. 

Harry's hair was as frantic as usual, with sleek black darting in all directions. His rounded glasses stood perched on his nose, slowly sliding down it like a slippery, iced slope. He was far from anything cold however, as his smile was warm and welcoming.

The crowds were dispersing as groups clambered onto the overflowing train. Beaming faces poked out of each window as hectic hands reached as high as they could to wave goodbye to their loved ones. 

Those uniformed men from before blew on their whistles to tell us we needed to get on the train.

"Oh-Okay honey, write to me when you can"

"And don't forget to have fun!"

My parents hugged me, as Molly addressed her kids.

"Boys, I want you to be on your best behaviour this year. No owls from Miss McGonagall about mischief..."she gave the twins a heavy look, "or talk of interfering with dark magic." she looked softer at Ginny.

"And definitely no courageous missions against deadly enemies" she concluded, with her eyes lingering on Ron, Hermione and Harry, who all looked to the ground with an awkward smile. Despite his involvement with the 'missions against deadly enemies', Molly gave Harry a kind smile. She'd always felt sympathy for his past, and saw him as doing no wrong.

With final goodbyes and frantic waves, we scrambled onto the Hogwarts express.


	5. Chapter 5

After settling into our compartment, filled with sweets and treats from the Honeydukes Express, Ron, Hermione and Harry had wandered off to catch up with friends about their wonderful summers and amazing stories. 

They'd invited me of course, but I had chosen to stay in my safe bubble in the compartment, to change from my 'muggle' clothes into my brand new plain Hogwarts robes. My house ones would come once I had been sorted. I now felt exactly right for the role of a student at Hogwarts.

_Hogwarts! I am going to be a student at Hogwarts!_

I decided to explore the train, and attempt to find my missing friends through the maze of compartments. Each compartment I passed painted a different picture; studious Ravenclaws pouring over books of fascinating spells and bubbling potions, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team passionately lecturing each other on tactical tricks and confusing match plans, a group of Gryffindors discussing their adventurous summers, from holidaying in Cornwall to watching football with their fathers, whatever _that was._

As I carried on further past brave Gryffindors, wise Ravenclaws and loyal Hufflepuffs, I reached a part of the train that was very different. 

...Secretive.

An ominous air floated through the corridor as I passed compartments who held faces of near mysterious students.

One door was open, and the creatures began to hunt.

"Ahhh I haven't seen you around before, you must be new."

The voice stopped me, snide and sarcastic, but something about it made me squint at the speaker

"Oh, I see, with fiery hair like that, you must be another one of those traitor Weasleys. I didn't think there were anymore of those foul children. I mean, how many _are_ there?" sneered a boy, whose hair was white as snow and eyes grey like steel, and twice as sharp. The end of his lips curled into a smirk as he looked to his friends, who I decided to glance at.

A girl with sleek black hair that sat at her shoulders, and two large boys with muddy hair and intimidating glares. They laughed as if on cue to please the icy boy.

"A petty excuse for purebloods!" replied the girl, looking as though she'd spit at me, if I weren't so _below_ her.

"I'd be expecting hand-me-down robes."

"And second-hand books!" snorted the boys, voices thick and dumb, as if repeating a rehearsed line.

I felt my face begin to flush. I bit my lip and clenched my fists, pleading for my embarrassment to subside as anger started to boil in my stomach.

"Actually,m...my name's Clover. Clover Adley"

The arrogant boy's sinister smirk began to fade, and become a fearsome scowl. I had risked injuring his ego, as I created the possibility that he may have been wrong.

"The Weasleys are my..... my cousins, Ron is-"

"Well, spit it out" taunted the girl, grin full of teeth like a shark. The lack of laughter or responses from her group seemed to displease her, her grin disappeared and her head hung.

"Ron is my cousin!" I blurted out, after finally gaining control of my apparently weak voice.

Sure enough, that smirk resurfaced, growing bigger than before as the boy felt like he'd won. I had obviously reassured his ego as confidence flushed back into his pale cheeks.

"Ha, I knew it, you look just like the rest."

He straightened his posture, as if to exert his power and show that he was in charge, which in a way, he was. Of the brainless goons and the room, at least.

And _man_ did that irritate me, the fire in my stomach stirring as it made its way to my throat.

"Why haven't we seen you before? You... definitely don't _look_ like a first year."

"I transferred from Beauxbatons, this will be my fourth year" I replied, relaxing my fists, pleased I'd found my confidence. I didn't know who this boy was and I wasn't going to let him make me feel so weak.

"Ooo, Beauxbatons," he made eye contact with the two boys, wiggling his eyebrows as they shuffled amusedly, the girl rolling her eyes.

"The French, fancy! Well, I'm Malfoy. _Draco_ Malfoy. I hope you aren't as... _annoying_ as those cousins of yours. "

 _Malfoy!_ Of course. 

The boy who Ron despised so much. He was the son of a Death Eater , Lucius Malfoy, and held all the beliefs that went with that title. That wizards should all be pure blood, and that anyone lesser wasn't worthy. The belief that Lord Voldemort was a true ruler, and would once return to his rightful power. 

That, and the idea that Ron, Harry and Hermione were the worst people ever, and kept interfering with the Dark Lord's plans. I was sure that I would soon be added to that list.

"Maybe you'll break that wretched cycle, and become a cunning Slytherin. That would be a first!" 

"I'd love to, but is being a part of this... weird cult mandatory? If so, I'd like to give it a miss."

They stopped laughing, looking confused, and I wondered if the large boys had brains or toffee in their head.

"What do you-"

"Just because you're miserable, doesn't mean you _have_ to make sure everyone else is, too. Figure out what's hurting you, or who, and grow up, Draco."

I smiled, false and wide and stepped backwards to the doors. Shockingly, Draco didn't respond, seemingly frozen, but the girl did.

"How _dare_ you! You _rat!"_

Her wand was suddenly out of her sleeve, pointing at me with a fire in her eyes. I fumbled, the wand in my pocket but difficult to remove.

_"Furnunculus!"_

The light purple colour sparked at the end of her wand, but fired way above my head, ricocheting off of the door and deflecting into the smaller of the two boys. He groaned as boils started growing and bursting on his face, looking utterly miserable.

Pulling her eyes from the boy, she was met with the shocking sight of Draco, still frozen in place, arm in the air from when he'd knocked the girl's aim.

_Did… did he help me?_

My eyes met his, the hatred gone and replaced with something I couldn't place. Deciding I'd outstayed my welcome, I turned tail and walked away.

I may just be crazy, but I could have sworn his eyes lingered on me slightly longer than the rest as I left. 

As if he cared a bit more than he had first portrayed. Maybe his cold exterior was just a front?

If it was, then what is behind that alluding façade?

After my awful encounter with those Slytherins, I loomed awkwardly in the corridor for a few moments, trying to regain control of my statue body. My legs felt heavy like lead and refused to move. My breath had quickened, causing my chest to heave. Small crescent moons were painted on my sweaty palms as a result of my former tightly-clenched fists.

I told you I wasn't very good with people.

After what felt like hours, but was realistically seconds, I turned and hurried back to the safety of my compartment, where I could be alone. Harry, Ron and Hermione would soon be back, and at this point, I didn't mind waiting.


	6. Chapter 6

After, shall we say, an unsettling encounter, I had returned to the carriage where my friends seemed to be quietly discussing something important.

"The attack, do you think it means he's back?" whispered Hermione, with a look of terror in her eyes.

"No, no, surely not, he is gone. He disappeared the night that he attempted to kill Harry. He can't come back." replied Ron. He was obviously trying to reassure himself, revealed by the quiver in his voice.

"We don't know that Ron." Harry's hand hovered over his scar," The Death Eaters, many have been in hiding for years. Why suddenly resurface and reaffirm their loyalties to a lost lord?"

Pulling open the sliding door, I stepped inside. They immediately pulled away from their tight circle, and turned to see who entered their conversation.

"Am I intruding?" 

I hesitantly sat down. I knew I had been told again and again I was welcome in their friendship group, and that they were happy I was here, but I was fearful that I would be intruding. They had already forged their little family of their own, and it was hard to not doubt yourself that you weren’t wanted.

"Oh Clover, it's you." Hermione's voice sounded relieved.

They all seemed to relax, and their shoulders fell as they sunk back into the velvet cushions of the seats.

"We were discussing what happened at the Quidditch World Cup final. More specifically, the dark mark"

"Do you think they're back? That he is back. You Know Who." Ron's quiver was still apparent.

"I-"

To be honest, the thought had crossed my mind. I agreed with Harry, I couldn't understand why this would suddenly happen if it didn't allude to other ‘people’ reappearing. Or, shall we say a certain person.

"Oh bloody hell Harry, she agrees with you. We're doomed!" Ron pronounced before I could even begin to muster a reply. He threw his hands up in defeat as if I had just thrown a heavy blow to hope.

"Ron, calm down. We don't know anything yet, there is no point assuming such things." Hermione said sharply, obviously unimpressed by Ron's outburst.

"There is nothing that we can do Ron. I'm sure the Ministry of Magic is doing everything they can."

"Pfft!" Ron didn't seem convinced.

"Let it be some comfort that we are going to the safest place in the Wizarding World," soothed Hermione," with the most wise and powerful man in the Wizarding World."

"Anyway, Clover, where did you go? I thought you said you wanted to stay in the compartment and get ready." Harry looked at me pleadingly, desperately attempting to change the subject of the conversation. 

Obviously, I understood this, with the information I had on Ron's ability to become hysterical. However, something seemed off. Harry seemed to be hiding something. I couldn't pinpoint what made me think this. I just did.

You see, I may be bad with people, but I also have the gift of reading them. Noticing things that others do not. Understanding someone's emotions or thoughts, by body language and facial expressions. The tone of their voice. Or the way they choose to present themselves. Like my suspicions about Draco. I guess it is a gift you get from being the quiet kid who has always kept to themselves.

And I just knew that something was off with Harry.

In spite of this, I decided to grant his wishes.

"I thought I would see where you guys had gone. Maybe be introduced to some of your friends. I went to find you but then I got caught up in the Slytherin carriage."

Ron's eyes widened. Lets just say that he wasn't a fan of the serpent house.

"Caught up?" questioned Hermione.

"A group of Slytherins stopped me in the corridor," I hesitantly glanced at Ron" one of them was Malfoy."

Pumpkin juice spurted from Ron's mouth, showering the compartment in fluorescent orange. 

"Ron!” Hermione jumped up and before any of us could react she pulled her wand from beneath her robes, “Scourgify!"

Hermione waved her wand, and the tangerine pools vanished. 

Ron seemed surprised by Hermione's complex magic, as usual, then realised the previous conversation and proceeded with one word.

_ "Malfoy." _

Red flush began to creep up his neck as his breath quickened.

From what we have learnt from before, Ron isn't the fondest of Draco Malfoy.

"What did he say? If he said one bad thing about you I swear-"

"It's fine. He was fine, after I put him in place.”

"Put him in his place?" Harry raised his eyebrows.

"That's it. What did he do? He is so gonna pay-" Ron's outburst had failed to subside.

"Calm down, it's nothing," I raised by hands to beckon Ron to stay seated, "he was just being his usual self, from what you have told me, and I decided to see if he liked the taste of his own medicine. It was that Pansy that was the worst. She tried to use the Furnunculus spell,” Hermione seemed worried, “but missed."

I decided not to mention how Draco helped me. Well, that I thought he did.

"We don't like her much either." chirped Ron, not quite over his angry state.

“Lets just say, it's nice to finally have a face to put to the name. Especially seeing as you talk about him so much." I turned to him, with a teasing glint in my eye.

"What!" Ron immediately replied.

A mischievous grin crept along my face. Oh, how easy it is to wind up Ronald Weasley. 

For a second, I thought I had overstepped the line, as his disgusted expression remained frozen. But soon enough, that hearty smile broke back along his face as I had chipped away at his anger. He could never stay serious for too long. 

He playfully nudged me in the arm.

The rest of the journey was filled with endless laughter and careless conversation. Rolling hills of luscious grass and endless canvases of bright blue skies flitted past the frosted glass. All the worry that had seeped in before had soon been wiped away. 

For a moment, we were able to be the children that we were again.

Little did we know, we wouldn't be gifted with this luxury for quite some time, once we stepped off this train and entered our fourth year of wizarding school.

Little did I know, the boy I had briefly met would become much more than just a boy.


	7. Chapter 7

The rest of the night was a wonderful blur.

Hagrid bounded down the platform at Hogsmeade station with open arms, greeting us all into the new school year, before returning to the swaying boats to lead the first years to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall. 

It was just as I had imagined it would be and more. Flickering candles emitted brightness and warmth across the room, inviting me into its welcoming atmosphere. They really did float in the air, solitary, just like my father had described in glee from when I was small. 

Rows of oak tables stretched across the room: sapphire blue, ruby red, canary yellow and emerald green. The four houses of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All their own valuable diamonds in a person's journey and growth. An identity that all students value in their heart. 

After all, it shapes them, destining them to their individual futures.

But don't be fooled. The assumptions you have of each aren't always true, as each trait can have a different outcome to the one that you predict. They are only the beginning. What one does with them is what seals their fate.

Which is something I learned as my journey collided with another's. 

Don’t worry, you will too.

At the opposite end, stood a table holding the professors. 

The pointed hat of Professor McGonagall towered over the rest and her mousey brown hair was scraped back into a tight bun. She tried to maintain her usual strict expression, but soon enough a small smile was etched on her face.. 

Professor Snape's black hair hung around his face, which held an unimpressed scowl. I have been told that it rarely differed from this: he wasn't the type to show emotions. Well, except pure disgust and dislike. 

Hagrid's big bushy beard lay across his bulging chest. Even from the entrance, his hearty laugh boomed across the chattering crowds of children. 

Other Professors sat along the table, peering down at the students and gleefully discussing the new year. It seemed that everyone was excited for another year of school.

In the centre, stood a man with half moon glasses and long white hair that draped down towards the floor. He wore lilac robes made of shiny silk and crushed velvet. 

The Headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore.

It all happened so fast.

The timid first years were each sorted into their houses, to be greeted by their new families for years to come. 

Then it was my turn.

Dumbledore stepped forwards towards his golden owl lectern. “We also have a transfer student from Beauxbatons who will be joining us in her fourth year. I would like you to give her a very warm welcome and treat her as kindly as you do to your peers. Clover Adley, would you like to join us to be sorted into your new house, that you will be part of for the remainder of your time at Hogwarts.”

I arose from the Gryffindor table, where I had been waiting with my friends and went to stand in front of all these faces; some familiar, many new.

I sat down and Professor McGonagall placed an aged Sorting Hat on my head.

"Hmm, a new student, lets see. Very hard-working and dedicated. Yes, patient and understanding of others, always surrounding yourself with people you love, and wanting to help others. You have the ability to do great good to this world and the people in it. Well, it will have to be....HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table littered with yellow robes erupted in cheers with arms swaying in the air. I guess that meant that was the table I was meant to sit at.

And that they were pleased to have me.

Which was a good start.

Knowing this would be my new family in my new home - well sort of - I smiled with relief and went to sit on that welcoming table.

I looked over to Ron, Hermione and Harry over with the Gryffindor's. Harry and Hermione were clapping, and mouthing the words 'Congratulations' in joy. This reassured me that we would still stay good friends. Ron looked baffled. I seemed to have distracted him from his rumbling belly and drooling mouth.

Weasleys, or at least Weasley blood, have always been Gryffindor.

Never anything else.

_ Never Hufflepuff. _

This thought would swarm continuously in my head for years to come, as I never truly understood why I was the outlier.

Well, I eventually figured it out.

But that's for later.

You have a lot more to come until that.

Let's just say, that I truly believe the sorting hat is never wrong.

So, I sat down, after walking past starstruck Ron, and occupied an empty seat. On my left was a boy with hazelnut hair and a chiselled jaw. On my right was a girl with coiled curls and unflawed skin. They seemed to be in my year, or at least around the same age.

Before I could even begin to introduce myself, Dumbledore continued his speech. 

“Now we are settled and sorted into our houses, I would like to make an announcement!”

He continued to tell us that this year Hogwarts would be holding the Triwizard Tournament with two other schools: Durmstrang, and my former school Beauxbatons. 

At once they fluttered in, with their silky blue skirts and tilted hats. How relieved I was that I didn’t have to wear those horrendous uniforms again. 

“Wow, quite a change then.” 

I turned to my right where those words had left the mouth of the girl. She greeted me with a tender smile. 

I returned the kindness, and then resumed listening to Dumbledore. The Durmstrang boys strode in soon after, draped in tawny brown furs. 

Eventually, Dumbledore concluded his announcement. With a wave of his hand golden goblets and plates filled with tasty treats engulfed the table, and filled the air with sweet aroma. 

The hall was soon filled with chatter like once before, and the coiled curls girl looked towards me.

"I'm Rae Fernsby ". 

"Adley. Clover Adley"

"You sound just like Malfoy," she laughed, and her chocolate curls bounced in unison. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but a welcoming one.

Her eyes were kind, as golden specks swam in a pool of rich espresso brown.

"Or James Bond." A girl's head appeared behind the mane of curls. She had black, shiny hair that reached far down her back. She had pouty lips and piercing pale green eyes.

I began to laugh too, as if it was infectious.

"That's Opal. Oh wait, let me start again. That's Thornberry. Opal Thornberry"

And we exploded in laughter once more.

After regaining her breath, Rae returned her focus back on me, "I think you're in our dorm. We are going to have so much fun!".

I glanced back at my family. Fred and George already seemed to be up to no good, making a girls food disappear off her plate every time she turned away.

Then there was Ron.

As I looked at him, he returned his gaze. His mouth was stuffed with a bite of the succulent drumstick that was clutched in his hand. He seemed to have calmed down after all of the recent events.

I turned back to my own table, at my new found friends and began to tuck into the feast. Within minutes my plate was piled with buttery mash, crunchy carrots, golden roast potatoes and thick gravy. There was chicken breast, sliced beef, lamb chops and pulled pork. 

I didn't know which to choose, so I took a bit of each and added it to my all ready toppling tower of food.

One of my many Weasley traits.


	8. Chapter 8

After filling my belly to the brim to the point I felt I might explode, it was time to leave the hall.

"Are you ready?" Opal placed her hand on my back to indicate for me to leave.

I got up out of my seat and followed them out of the emptying hall into the crowded corridors. The houses split into all directions; Slytherins down to the dungeons, Gryffindor's up to the towers.

Opal and Rae turned to go down a fleet of stairs, to the Hufflepuff Basement. Fellow yellows followed, some excitingly babbling, others stretching with big yawns. 

We passed oil portraits with noble witches, gallant knights and aging wizards. They waved happily at us as we walked by. Those same tasty smells had begun to waft through the corridor as we neared the kitchen.

I could easily get used to this greeting every morning.

A Hufflepuff prefect approached the barrels and began to tap them in a specific rhythm. The lid then opened and the students began to crawl through.

Opal and Rae lead me through the cosy common room and down to our dorm.

There were four beds inside, strewn with soft patchwork quilts. They had long oak posters, with mustard fabric draping down each side. Copper lamps stood on small chests, creating a honey glow.

Leather trunks lay on the floor at the end of each.

"That one's yours, to the far right. Your next to Iris-Oh look, here she is."

She pointed to a girl in the door frame, with dirty blonde hair cut short around her face. She reminded me of a pixie as it paired with her deep, ocean blue eyes. She had a small, yellow clip in her hair, tucking it away from her face.

“You must be the new girl! It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Clover. I’m a cousin of the Weasley’s” I extended my hand to shake hers, but instead she threw her arms around me and pulled me into an enveloping hug.

For the next hour, we unpacked our suitcases into the oak wardrobes against the walls and ornate chests that sat at the end of our beds. 

We chatted away about funny childhood stories and what we got up to over the summer. They filled me in on everything I needed to know about Hogwarts and all the gossip to ‘catch me up’. By the end of the night, I already felt I knew everything about everyone at the school and that I had known Iris, Opal and Rae for years instead of hours.

We then moved onto blood status.

“Yeah I’m muggle born. None of my family are witches or wizards. They didn’t believe my letter at first, but then Dumbledore sent Professor McGonagall to speak to them. It took awhile for them to get used to it, but they have always supported me. They bought an owl and everything, so they can stay in touch.” explained Opal.

“I’m Half-blood. My dad’s a wizard and my mothers a muggle. Half the time I think my mom knows more about magic than he does!” added Iris.

“Clover! Clover! Is Clover in here?” A boy with honey hair barged in.

“Here. I’m here” I said, giving him a quizzical look.

“Potter and his friends are waiting for you by the door.” He stands for a second more, then turns and walks out. He didn’t seem impressed that ‘Potter’ had told him to find me through the maze of endless tunnels in the Hufflepuff dormitories.

So I went to find them. It had taken me a while to navigate my way through the branching tunnels, with many frustrated stops at dead-ends.

I still had a lot to learn.

As I crawled through the Hufflepuff common room entrance and entered the dimly lit corridor, I was confused. 

Nothing.

There was no one there. 

I glanced either way down the corridor, but it remained completely still. Was the boy teasing me? I turned back around to return to my dorm, but stopped when I heard a shuffle behind me. 

“Clover, Clover over here” someone whispered.

I spun back around and sure enough, there stood Harry, Hermione and Ron cramped together, tugging away the invisibility cloak.

“Wha-”

“We had to sneak over. I don’t fancy polishing the trophy room with Filch again” said Ron, obviously realising my confusement.

"How have you been? Have you settled in well?" Hermione met me with a kind smile, but contrasting eyes that portrayed apprehension. I don't think she knew how I would feel.

"I mean, it's been good. I've made friends with my roommates and my dorm is wonderful. It was..surprising," I avoided Ron's stare, "I know that we all expected me to be sorted into Gryffindor, but I think it will be ok. Do you think the hat’s right?"

"I questioned its truth, "replied Harry" but I believe it is. I believe the hat knows more than we know ourselves."

This calmed me, but the tightness in my chest didn't subside. It didn't sit right with me. I felt like an outcast.

"What lesson do you have tomorrow?" asked Ron.

"Potions, after a free period."

"Oh well, second lesson we have a free period. Meet us at the stairs to the dungeons and we will walk you there." added Ron.

"Like a send off into your first year at Hogwarts!" grinned Harry.

I nodded in agreement, and said goodbye to them all.

"Goodbye!" cried Hermione from under the invisibility cloak far down the corridor, past the kitchen and nearing the stairs.

Only in the morning did I realise I didn't actually know where the stairs to the dungeons were.


	9. Chapter 9

The morning was, well, stressful to say the least.

I woke up extra early to make sure my morning went smoothly And at first, it was.

I had pulled back my cosy sheets to a cold morning greeting, and was met by the golden glow of the sun peering over the horizon of rolling hills. Everything was still and peaceful, as if the world had not awakened yet. I carefully made my way to the bathroom, treading lightly as to not to disturb my new friends. I washed the frigid morning away with warm water from a refreshing shower.

I walked down to the Great Hall, which was much brighter than before. I sat at the nearly empty table, and had an array of different foods. 

I still hadn't gotten over the excitement of the endless choices on offer.

After a very uneventful morning, I quickly returned to my dorm to get the books I needed for the day.

As I went to meet Harry, Ron and Hermione, I realised I didn't know where to go. I attempted to follow the path I saw the Slytherins take the night before, but swiftly found myself lost down one of Hogwarts endless corridors. They all appeared the same littered with large moving paintings and shiny steel coats of armour.

Scarily enough, I could have sworn that one of them had moved.

By the time I had reached the stairs, after searching through the endless branching walkways and many wide oak doors, I was late. Harry, Hermione and Ron were long gone, probably wondering where I had disappeared to. Probably expecting I had made my own way to my lesson.

I was running down the dark corridor of the dungeons, my feet slamming against the cold stone floor. The thudding echoed into the darkness, masking the eerie silence that surrounded me. It may have just been the hysteria playing on my mind, but it almost seemed like there was a green glow cast against the grey walls. As if it was warning me of what I was walking into. Or, in fact, running into.

I failed to notice this sign.

I turned a corner, and raced through the door of Professor Snape's classroom.

Jars sat on small shelves containing foggy liquids and suspended weeds. Brass cauldrons filled with potions of purples and greens bubbled away, emitting delicate mists and questionable smells.

I came to a halt, as I realised that thirty or so eyes were staring at me. The class was divided. Slytherins on one side and Hufflepuffs on the other. I seem to have interrupted a silent classroom and drawn attention from Snape, who was standing at his mahogany desk.

"Miss Adley, you're late."

I pressed my hands firmly on either side of me, praying their trembles were unnoticeable, "I-I-I didn't know where to g-"

He waved a dismissive hand towards me, "That's enough. I have no interest in your pleas. Five points from Hufflepuff. _Sit._ "

I looked around the classroom, searching for any spare seat to sit at and attempt to hide my shame. They all seemed to be full, except... _one_.

Professor Snape seemed to have read my mind.

"Ah, only one seat left. Miss Adley, please come and join Malfoy at his table."

Draco turned around to look at me from his seat near the back corner, tucked away. And sure enough, there was a free seat at his table. The _only_ free seat.

"Adley sit. _Now_. Unless you'd like to join me here after school for an hour's detention." His voice was low and steady, and I knew not to test his claims.

Desperately wanting to avoid the fate he threatened, I did as I was told.

I clambered onto the stout stall, and retrieved my books from my bag.

"Weasley, seems you're stuck with my miserable self. I bet you're ecstatic." whispered Malfoy, as Snape resumed to scratch instructions on the chalkboard.

"Oh believe me, I can't wait." I replied, careful not to make contact with his piercing eyes, and instead focusing on the book in my hand.

After settling, I realised I was surrounded by Malfoys goons. Those two boys from before sat to the right of us, while Pansy was in the chair in front. When Snape was turned away, she swivelled to look at us, at me. She looked first at Draco, her face sweet, then quickly threw me a fearsome scowl before returning to copying down Snape's notes.

"It seems your guardian Parkinson is keeping an eye out for you." I nodded to where she was sitting, leant against the desk and propping her chin in her hands, " How cute. You two are made for each other."

Draco seemed taken aback, and slightly offended.

"Guardian? None of the sort. That is only her fantasy, not mine." he leaned back, as if attempting to create as much distance as possible between himself and her. To prove what he was saying was true.

It seemed she had heard this, as she stiffened and ducked her head lower towards her book.

I opened my worn leather bound book, dipped my feather quill into the pot of jet black ink and began copying Snape's notes. I wasn't the best at potions (sorry, I'm flattering myself, I was very much terrible!) and it was probably wise to take all the help I could get. I was already at a disadvantage and miles behind the rest, and couldn't afford to make that gap any larger.

Pansy seemed to now be shifting awkwardly, after Draco had obviously hit a nerve. The only noise was the scratching of quills against rough parchment, the slight bubbling of rusted cauldrons and the sorry sighs of bored students.

Well, they looked less like students and more like zombies, as their moves were slow and lazy.

Draco's elbow knocked mine, stabbing my quill into the page and leaving a big blotch of ink that bled across the page. The perfectly presented words were now unreadable as the ink seeped between each sharp line spreading its disease to infect any remainder of clear parchment that may have been untouched.

"Fucking hell, you absolute idiot!" escaped my lips. A few heads turned, but I had seemed to have avoided the dangerous fate of attracting the attention of the miserable Professor.

"Got a bit of a Temper, Weasley?" teased Malfoy, as a smirk tugged at the side of his face. He seemed very pleased with himself.

I reacted with something opposite to that somewhat smile.

"Adley, not Weasley." I corrected, my irritation detectable in too sharp a tone.

"Wow, you do have a temper, _Weasley_!"

I looked at my now ruined notes, and teared the wreck out angrily, screwing it into a small ball and desperately attempting to catch up with the growing amount of work, I re-dipped my quill into the murky ink and resumed scratching in my book.

"Ensure you write this down accurately and in detail, as you will need it for our next lesson. Fail to write down this information and you will have no instructions for your first potions. And a detention, with me." his eyes seemed to linger on me a moment too long, as if he knew that my notes were very far from existing, never mind being 'accurate' and 'detailed'.

What I didn't see was that Draco had decided he wasn't finished with tormenting me. 

He grasped my scrunched, ruined page and threw it to hit Pansy right in the crown of her tiny head. Overreacting, she reached her hand up to rub the spot soothingly as she turned to face me. She seemed to enter destructive mode.

_"You little rat! You hit me in the head! How pathetic, you bitch!"_

"What, it wasn't m-" my words stumbled, as I failed to weave a jumble of letters to form proper sentences in my state of shock.

"Shut it Adley. You're gonna pay for this." Pansy reached over, about to stand up from her stool, and launch at me. Her arms were outstretched and looked as if they were itching to get a firm grasp on me.

"Parkinson and Adley, ten points from Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Sit back down at once or else I will triple it. And you'll spend an hour with me scrubbing cauldrons if you decide to proceed. " Professor Snape seemed to have suddenly appeared inches away from our desks, a slight furrow in his brow to show his frustration.

She sat back down, pure rage painted on her face. She gave me a fearsome look, as if to say 'This isn't over.' I was pretty sure she was right.

I looked over at Draco, anger burning in my eyes. He seemed very amused by the whole thing, and his face was full of glee. He snickered and whispered "Don't look at me like that, I'm only having some fun. Loosen up!"

My expression didn't crack. Was he really trying to make my life hell? Pansy already hated my guts, and now she thinks I am returning the favour. She wasn't wrong, but that wasn't something I wanted her to know.

The lesson passed in tense silence, as I didn't dare to look at the boy sitting next to me, never mind utter a word.

I can't say I wasn't surprised. We were meant to hate each other, wired to be enemies. He was from the family on one side while mine was on the other. Our fathers hated each other, and our families were always at feud. And as I predicted, I was sure I had been added to that list with Ron, Hermione and Harry. The list of the people he hated the most.

Or at least that's what I thought.

After an eternity trapped in the chilling classroom, the lesson had come to an end. I began packing my things away, like the rest of the class, eager to escape this misery.

However, Professor Snape had other ideas.

"Before you exit my classroom, I need to inform you on your Homework. This term, instead of individual pieces each week, I will be setting you a project. This will be on the ten most useful potions. How to collect the ingredients, where they are found, the different recipes and processes, why they are useful......" his voice turned into a low drone

A wave of unapproving sighs followed.

He proceeded, " _And_ , you will be working with your current acquaintance at your table. No objections!" he glared at his victims, "It should be handed into me during the last week of the school year."

I froze. My vision blurred and my hearing disappeared as what he said had sunk in. If sitting next to him wasn't enough, I'd now have to work with him. 

With Draco Malfoy.

_For the entire school year._

"It will account for half of your final grade. If you do not complete this, prepare to leave your fourth year with a...fail. I will not accept any excuses. This...is...compulsory."

I could have sworn I saw the corners of his pressed lips curl, as if he found pleasure in what he was saying. In condemning us to a year of boredom.

A hand rose above the sea of mournful faces, hesitant as it raised into Snape's view.

"But-but sir," his voice quivered as if he was being faced with a deadly beast. I wouldn't describe Professor Snape as something far from dissimilar, "The Triwizard tournament, sir-"

"There will be no objections. I am well aware of the events that will be occurring this year, but it does not excuse you for failing to work," he scanned the room to ensure everyone was listening.

He returned to his desk and organised his papers. He had said what he wanted, and would partake in no more.

I turned to look at Draco once more. He seemed to be just as shocked as I was. I couldn't tell you his thoughts, for his face was blank.

I couldn't read his emotion as there weren't any to decipher.

He met my gaze and we sat there stationary. 

Just looking. 

My brain was swarming like a hive of angry bees.

I wondered if he was the same. He must have been, surely?

Suddenly he snapped out of it, seeming to shake whatever just happened to him. I could have sworn I saw his façade return, as it rippled across his face seamlessly.

"Well Weasley, I guess we are partners then. Meet me in the Library, Wednesday night, so we can start this wretched project. I mean really, a project set on the first day of the new school year. It's as if we don't have a life outside of education. Or that the Triwizard Tournament is on."

His calmness was surprising, and I failed to respond. Failed to pry my glued lips. Failed to pull away my staring eyes.

And sure enough, he fulfilled my expectations of the malice I had anticipated.

He shifted nearer so his mouth was only inches from my ear.

"You better not fuck this up Weasley. I need these grades, and you're gonna get them for me." he lingered there for a second, noticed the uncomfortable fidget of my hands.

He moved away and stood up, throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder. Plastered a too bright grin.

"See you on Wednesday, Weasley!"


	10. Chapter 10

"You have to work with him now!"

I sat before a crackling fire that danced sporadically at the corner of my view. I had sunk deep into a scarlet chair, that's velvet felt soft beneath my fingers.

I had sneaked into the Gryffindor common room to join Harry, Ron and Hermione after my dreadful first day. It seemed my luck had failed to appear since I had stepped onto the Hogwarts Express.

I was facing the furious face of my cousin Ron.

"I can't believe he said that Clover. You should tell Professor Snape!" Hermione's face was a picture of shock, as her mouth fell open. She turned as Harry laughed.

"Like he would do anything. Yeah, Professor Snape is going to punish his favourite student, who is in the house he rules and happens to have been an acquaintance of his father."

Hermione's face quickly turned to a fearsome scowl that wretched the smile that had been drawn across Harry's face. He reclined further back in his patterned chair, as if he hoped it would swallow him into its stark surface.

Ron shook his head as he sat in silence, as he seemed to be attempting to take in the 'horror' he had just learnt.

"Well, I'm just going to have to deal with it. It's not like something I can avoid, it accounts for half of my grade." I reply, fidgeting with the golden tassels that hung on the edge of one of the scattered cushions.

Hermione nodded in agreement. I focused back onto Ron, expecting his mocking expression at her reaction, but he seemed to still be fixed in his trance.

Fred and George bounded down the stairs of their dormitory, desperately attempting to stifle their laughs. Their hands gripped at the mouths as if they would somehow prevent the infectious giggles that were forming in their throats. They failed as they erupted .

It seemed to knock Ron out of his shock, as his head suddenly jerked.

"You have to work with him now!" he repeated again, as his eyes were opened wide and his mouth hung open.

"Yes Ron, she's already said that!" Hermione's temper didn't seem to stop at Harry.

Ron seemed to ignore her. "You have to work with him! Wait until I write to mom and tell her. A whole term! Wait until Dad hears, he'll be furious. Wait until-"

"No." I got up from the sinking chair, pulling my body from its warm grasp.

"What" Ron's gaze moved from staring at nothing, and finally ,met mine.

"No. You won't tell Molly. Or Arthur. I said it will be fine." My voice was stern, cold.

"Clover, you-" he began to splutter.

"Ronald Weasley, I said no. You're trying to help, I can see that, but you're not writing to them about it." I held my gaze, to show him I wasn't going to retreat. 

I was stubborn, he knows that.

Harry and Hermione grew still, shocked by my sudden change in nature.

"But-"

I rose from the chair, pressing my arms firmly to my sides. "Ron, tell me you will not write to them."

He stood to shoot a hard look for several seconds, analysing me, wondering if it were worth continuing to object. My expression didn't falter as I met his glare. His jaw was tense and set firmly in his expression. His eyebrows were furrowed, hanging low on his face, pulling the skin tight across his forehead.

His shoulders relaxed as he gave a sigh.

"Fine. But if he does something then-"

I sat back down, relieved, "Then you can tell them. Then you can write or object."

He gave a short nod.

I returned it with a smile. After all, he was my cousin and he was just looking out for me.

"I should be getting to bed, if tomorrow is anything like today then I'm going to need a long night's rest."

-

Sadly, the next day didn't differ much from the first. I quickly found out that Draco wasn't just somebody that I had to deal with in one lesson. It seemed that Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were in quite a few lessons together.

And it wasn't just that.

I almost always ended up sitting next to him. If it was because of a seating plan, or that I had been late to a lesson after running round the school trying to find the classroom, Draco would be smirking at me from his table that held the only spare chair, beckoning me to walk straight into to his endless torture.

While I found it frustrating, after a while he seemed to think it was quite amusing.

"Weasley, it seems the world is trying to tell us something." his voice was breezy, as he leant back casually in his chair.

I shot him an unimpressed look.

"It's telling you that it doesn't like you very much, seeing as you're always seated next to a boy that makes you squirm. And its favouring me, by giving me the joy of taunting you."

He burst into a fit of laughter, and soon his sheep followed suit.

This didn't happen once. Or twice. It happened every. Single. Day.

By Wednesday, period five, I was restless, gazing at the clock on the wall, counting down the seconds till freedom came. In front of the clock stood the misty silhouette of Professor Binns, as speech oozed out of the outline of where his lips would have been.

This lesson was just like the rest. 

Of course, that white blonde hair sat in the seat to my left. It felt as if the teachers had collectively decided to torture me. What I had done wrong, I'm not sure, but it must have been really bad for this amount of mental pain to be inflicted.

He may not have spoken much today, which is always a relief, but that doesn't mean he didn't decide to make incessant noise. His fingers were tapping against the table, and had been for the duration of the lesson.

I like to think it symbolised the increasing beat of my heart as my blood began to boil. I wasn't his biggest fan.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick

One. Two. Three. Four.

Time was apparently passing, but the end of the lesson didn't seem to be approaching any nearer.

I moved my gaze from the dragging clock, and looked around at my classmates. Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. Again.

Every table looked just as uncomfortable as mine, with many reclining impatiently in their chairs, and others burying their heads in their hands, praying for the wave of facts and dates to subside before it drowned them. Opal sat near the front, kindly smiling to the Professor: she said she felt sorry for him, as it was obvious it wasn't a lesson that many enjoyed (more like despised).

Iris sat in the centre, unfortunately paired with Vincent Goyle, who seemed fascinated by his pot of raven ink.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

I looked back up to the clock. No, that couldn't be right. My brain must be tricking me. I rubbed my eyes and looked again.

It hadn't tricked me, it was the end. 

The end of the lesson

At the exact same time, Opal seemed to notice, as well as most of the class. Suddenly, life seemed to rush through their veins once again as they excitedly fidgeted. As Professor Binns paused, Opal raised her hand, "Sir, it's the end of the lesson."

"Oh, thank you Opal, okay you can pack up and leave. And don't forget the roll of parchment on the history of Hogsmeade.."

There wasn't much point of him carrying on as everyone had jumped up from their chairs and hastily ran for the door, in case he decided to change his mind. As Goyle pushed passed my desk, his heavily arms pushed the pile of textbooks towered in front of me onto the floor.

"My bad Weasley!" He grinned to Draco, who followed him out of the room.

I ducked down under the table to pick them up and stuff them into my already overflowing bag. The room had emptied, and only me and the floating Professor remained.

He didn't seem to have noticed that I was still in the classroom, and I wasn't eager to engage in conversation. I had heard enough history for one day.

I slowly got up, and quietly sneaked out of the classroom as he disappeared through a wall.

That was going to take some getting used to.

The corridor was ghostly. Everyone must have gone to enjoy their freedom, whether it was to meet friends in the Great Hall or returning to their common rooms. Opal and Iris had offered to wait for me after the lesson, but they had planned to return to our dorm while I needed to take a trip to the Library to add to my ever growing collection of books. I had a bit of catching up to do in lessons, some topics differ slightly from Beauxbatons and the last thing I wanted to do is fall behind, especially because this year was already expected to be eventful.

I began making my way to the library, entering that empty corridor. Dusk seemed to be creeping in as the sun hung low in the sky and light struggled to pour in through the coloured windows.

"Weasley, what are you doing leaving the classroom so late? Did you have trouble scooping up all those battered books on your own? Shame."

I turned to see Draco, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere. He leant lazily against the wall, and had that teasing glint in his eye. 

He looked effortless, as always. His robes were smooth, no crease or crinkle in sight. He probably bullied one of the house elves into ironing each and every imperfection from his clothes. His shirt was crisp, and tucked into the waistband of his pressed trousers, likely tailored to fit him perfectly. He wore a sleek leather belt, that was clasped by a shining silver buckle. Around his neck was his Slytherin tie, wrapped like an emerald snake under his collar, hanging at the perfect length and width to complete his uniform. He was pristine and put together. Always. 

It had taken me weeks to learn the precision of tying my own yellow tie. Ron had not yet mastered that skill, with his tie usually being short and tangled. On his right ring finger was the only piece of jewellery he wore. A silver band, with a snake coiled in its centre.

God, Malfoy was annoying.

I turned back down the corridor and continued, ignoring him as he left the wall and began stalking behind me.

I didn't have the energy to speak to him, never mind play into one of his taunting comments.

"Weasley I'm talking to you. Stop and listen to me." he shouted behind me, and his voice seemed to be growing nearer.

I sped up, clutching the satchel bouncing off my hip as I hurried to escape him. Not long now.

"Weasley I said wait!" He grabbed my arm and pulled me to face him.

I struggled to lose his grip but all it did was make him tighten it.

"Shove off Malfoy!" I tried to seem collected but the raised nerves were clear in my weakening voice.

"Stop struggling you bitch!" He pulled me towards him, and pushed me hard against the wall. His arms were pressed either side of me, ensuring my escape was impossible. My satchel had slid from its place on my shoulder and now sat slumped against the wall.

Rage had rushed across his face as it came worryingly close to mine.

"Don't you dare fucking do that again. You're not any better than me, so don't act like you are. You're just a piece of scum, and an embarrassment to purebloods. You're getting dangerously close to making me lose my shit!" his eyes were full of rage. So much emotion. 

That was rare.

I met his gaze and straightened, despite the pain of the hard marble pressed against my spine, "It seems I may have already accomplished that."

He threw his head back as a haunting laugh escaped his sneering mouth. His features were so sharp, his jaw like a blade. His white blonde hair was long and hung in front of his eyes. Those eyes. They were terrifyingly pale, the lightest, most frozen blue I'd ever seen. Like a frosted lake that's surface was almost impossible to penetrate.

Almost.

"Your feisty, I'll give you that. Don't worry, that fire will soon be put out once you learn your place." He neared me even more, if that was even possible. His face was now inches from mine, and his warm breath brushed against my cheek. I lifted my head, desperately trying to create a distance between us that was rapidly disappearing.

"It's cute, how hungry for power you are. Well, that's what you hope others believe. But no, it's actually acceptance you desire." I retorted.

That seemed to have hit a nerve. For a second, his façade had completely wavered. The coldness had subsided revealing what was underneath. The give away was his eyes. They were no longer piercing and cruel. He seemed...lost.

"Don't mess with something you don't understand. You won't want to be a bitch to me again." He looked to his arms that trapped me against him, and appeared as if he had just realised how much power he truly had. As much as I persisted, it would have been pointless to try and break free.

That didn't stop me from pushing further. Deeper.

"Last time I checked, you weren't in charge of me. Just because everyone else falls at your feet doesn't mean I will do the same. You don't hold the control, Draco, so don't expect that you do now or that you ever will."

I could feel a flush of scarlet crawl up my throat. Not embarrassment, but anger.

He was like a disease I couldn't shake, a painful, persistent one that you had to endure in order to overcome it.

He had decided he wasn't finished fighting his corner just yet, "You listen to me, and you do as I say. You never, ever, ignore me. _Ever again."_

He retreated and my lungs filled with air once again. Cold air was able to slice away at the heat that had engulfed me. He was suffocating.

His eyes ran me up and down. Slowly. Meticulously. I was sure he was scowling at the embarrassment that was me.

Two could play at that game. I pulled my satchel back off the floor, relieved its contents had decided to remain safely inside. I pushed myself from the wall and advanced to him, so close that he would now feel _my_ breath against _his_ cheek.

He flinched and stared at me, as if trying to read my motive. I'd caught him off guard. He didn't seem to actually believe I had that 'fire'. I went even closer, and had to stretch up so that my mouth was next to his ear.

"Don't risk your weakness because you think I'm some feral cat you can tame. That would be a big mistake. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't seem to be someone that likes to be vulnerable." My voice was bitter, as I poured poison from my mouth.

That veil dropped back over his face like a ripple of ice. His walls were built back firmly around him, maybe even higher and stronger than before. I had affected him, and he knows that I am aware I broke the former façade away. 

He won't risk that again. His security was water tight.

He rolled his shoulders and loosened his jaw, as if he was shaking off the former exposure, and replaced his panic with a small smirk.

He cleared his throat.

"This is fun. Us. I won't be letting this go any time soon. Not that you have a choice. When will I see you again? he tilted his head as if waiting for a response, but continued before I even had a chance to open my mouth," Oh, in the library tomorrow, to work on our _year_ long project. I'll see you tomorrow Weasley. Personally, I cannot wait."

He started striding down the corridor, his spine straight and head held high. 

God, he was a prick. 

Before he turned the corner he shouted.

"Four pm, don't be late!"

And then he was gone. 

And I was alone.


	11. Chapter 11

I turned the page, the smooth parchment beneath my fingertips that was patterned with ebony ink. The brown leather cover was cracked and worn, still grasping onto the pages. They were creased, and words had been smudged, probably from the many students from before who have turned pages and spilled potions.

_Stir with a silver rod. Dittany herb. Flobberworm mucus. Boil at a high heat. Chopped dragons liver. Allow to simmer._

The pages were littered with ingredients and methods, joining to create weird and wonderful potions. Small drawings sat lazily in the corners, depicting brass cauldrons and orange flames.

Bubbling potions, some murky browns and others fluorescent green. The flames seemed to really flicker under the warm glow of the library lamp.

I felt hidden, behind the endless mazes of towering shelves, packed with thousands of books. I sat at a mahogany desk. It was old, very old : I could tell by the tiny scratches and the worn edges that had been battered and bruised. I traced by hand along its base. My finger ran over an indent carved into its surface. It was there just like Harry had said.

I traced it. A capital J and L, surrounded by a heart. His parents, James and Lily, must have made their mark years ago, when they themselves would have been sitting at this desk, studying away.

Although, from all the stories I had heard, it seemed more likely that James would have been plotting his next big prank while Lily was trying to convince him not to.

It felt comforting that they had been there. I know I'd never met them, but it felt as though I had. Everyone very much kept them alive.

I was getting distracted, so I turned back to the book. Healing potions, that was a good start. I looked at the page, but the words wouldn't sink in. I was trying, my eyes chasing the scrawny shapes of letters desperately along the page, but they were nothing but blurs.

I was still distracted.

I was fidgeting my legs, bouncing them against the patterned floor. I chewed at my cheek, pushing down hard. Ow. Maybe too hard. I already pulled the stitching loose on the sleeve of my jumper, trying to use it to take my mind off today. All I did was make it worse because out of the many in my collection I had ruined my favourite. And now I felt guilty, it was one of the ones Aunt Molly had knitted. Deep navy blue, with a yellow C in the centre. She said she thought the colour would have brought out my eyes: she'd always loved my eyes.

It's ok though, it's ok. Because she'd find a spell to fix it, I'm sure. Or even better. Hermione. Hermione knew loads of spells, she'd have one for this. She would fix it all up and no one would ever know. Aunt Molly wouldn't know.

Wow, my mind's really racing. My heart was thudding. Why was I so nervous?

I pushed up from the desk, pushing my chair out and banging it against the bookshelf behind. A girl with a short blonde bob stared at me, half confused, and I was sure half mocking. I must have looked like a right idiot.

I turned to the shelves, that's safety created the walls I longed for to be built around me, so I could be alone. No danger.

Danger?

What am I talking about? The only thing in danger was my dignity. I needed to sort myself out.

The project. Lets focus on the project. The book before had gifted endless knowledge of ingredients and instructions, but I needed to know the beginning. Where to source the elements to form the endless potions. I skimmed the spines of books. Starting from the bottom and working my way up. It was hard to make out some of their titles under the low glow and aged covers. I looked higher and higher until my neck was stretched and my hair swept far down my back .

There it was.

_Foraging with Futterman: The Simple Guide to Collecting Basic Potion Ingredients._

It stood out against the rest, a new addition to Hogwarts Library. Ugh. It was high up. So high. I tried anyway, reaching my hand trying to grasp its edge, even though I knew I wouldn't get it.

My fingertips just grazed the glossy spine. Just a bit higher. I was nearly there.

I had been so occupied that I hadn't heard his footsteps as he had walked down the aisle. Or seen his shadow block the flickering light. I only noticed when I felt his body pressed against mine and saw his hand reach up to mine and then higher. Just high enough to reach the book. He pulled it down effortlessly, making me look like a fool.

His face was close to mine, so close that my hair was against his cheek. His mouth so close to my ear.

"Need some help. Weasley?" he whispered, so low and quiet it was barely audible. He moved back and placed the book down on the desk looking at the notes I'd made while waiting for him. Page after page.

"Don't get me wrong, it was fun watching you struggle but I don't think you would have stopped and I had hoped to return to my dorm this evening." he grinned coyly.

I wondered how long he had been there, watching.

"Don't worry, that makes two of us who aren't ecstatic to be here." I cocked my head to the side, "So are you here to help or just torment me?"

He dramatically held his heart, as if he was pained by a dagger that I had plunged into his chest.

"Oh, you have wounded me! I can't believe you would ever accuse me of having ulterior motives." he broke out into a laugh, entertained by his apparent humour.

He seemed to do that a lot didn't he? He really was a cocky, arrogant bastard.

"Your sickening." I say, as I return to the desk and sit down, looking back at my parchment and opening the new book.

"You're not holding back today are you, Weasley? I guess it's true what they say about redheads," If I hadn't heard this a thousand times, " you have a fiery temper."

He grabbed a chair from further down the aisle, near where the blonde girl had stood before, and dragged it next to mine.

"Is it true what they say about blondes like you? You know, with your snowy hair," he looked at me, seemed to think it was a compliment. I was surprised I could see over his huge ego, "That you're weak and fragile like a snowflake, easily broken."

"Good try, but not heard of that one."

"They must only say it behind your back then. Pity," I replied.

His mouth tugged at the corner into a small smile. The slightest smile. And as soon as he realised it was there, realised I had noticed, he yanked it back down.

Ha, I'd got to him. Again.

I seemed to be good at that.

"Let's just get this over with. For tonight at least. Until next week when I'm forced back into this _fiery_ hell again." He sat down turned to me and stared. First at me, then at the pile of textbooks and then my notes. He couldn't be serious.

"I'm not doing it for you Malfoy."

He looked at me again, with his brow furrowed. Was he really surprised?

"Last name basis, Weasley, you really are being harsh. And you heard what I said before."

I shuffled closer, closing the gap between us.

"I did hear you before. You said you needed the grades. So get them, with your own hard work. I hate to break it to you, but not everything is delivered to you on a silver platter, unlike the world you have been brought up into."

I held my gaze, firm. I was sick of him pushing me about, and frustrated at myself that before I had let him win. That wouldn't happen again.

"You don't want to mess with me Weasley. I mean I get it, your just like that hopeless uncle of yours-"

"And you the uncanny resemblance of your cowardly father."

Something dropped in his face. A veil, and behind it was red. Pure rage. I'd taunted him like he to me: no holding back. His scowl was firesome, his lips pressed so firmly together that they formed only a small line. Something dropped in me too. I'm ashamed to say it. But it was fear. I'd hit a nerve, I knew that. I just hadn't realised just how deep a nerve it was. It seemed talking about his father is where he drew the line, and I had just crossed it. His hand immediately reached into his crisp black robes.

His wand.

I was doomed.

Just as he pulled his hand away, and revealed the beginning of his blackened wand, he stopped.

At the end of the corridor hurried the librarian, Madam Pince. Well less of a hurry and more of a struggling shuffle under her billowing black robes. Her features were pointy, as if perfectly formed to dive her nose into endless books. Her hair was dark, and so were her eyes. She may have been small, but she was fearsome. Especially when it came to the conditions of the library.

"Shhhhhh! You two can be heard from the other end of the library. We need silence. If I hear a peep from either of you again, anything over a slight whisper, I will drag you out by the scruff of your robes myself!" she seemed flustered, out of breath from her sudden outburst.

"Sorry Madam Pince, it won't happen again, just Malfoy confused with how to study." I gave him a teasing smile, fake and plastered over my face.

She glared for a moment more, emitted one last huff and then turned on her heel shuffling back down the rows of teetering shelves.

When I looked back to Draco, he seemed to have drawn the veil back over his face. He looked me in the eyes, as if warning me not to cross that line again, before returning to the textbook he'd plucked effortlessly from the shelf.

"Watch yourself, Weasley," his eyes never left the book, "What do you want me to do?"

And so we worked. He looked through the books and located each ingredient, while I organized them into neat notes. He surprised me, knowing exactly what he was looking for, and most of the information only refreshed what he already knew. Potions seemed to be one of his hidden talents.

Strained words were traded when needed, but most of the time was filled with unbearable silence. His habit of annoying me had not seemed to subside, as he tapped on the table like he did every lesson.

We both worked until the first hour of many to follow for the future weeks had ended. When it did, he closed the book, returned it to the shelf and walked away.

Not a word.

Not a glance.

Nothing.


	12. Chapter 12

This day had been cold and wet. The kind of rain that is relentless, falling hard from sooty clouds that hung low in the sky. The kind that soaks your hair until it weighs down and sticks to your reddening cheeks. The kind that freezes your skin, until it goes raw and numb. The kind that leaves nothing untouched. 

No one untouched.

So we all stay behind the safety of the Hogwarts doors, where warmth radiates each hall and flames flickers in each fireplace.

Many of us were gathered in the Great Hall, the insistent sound of rain against the windows, racing to reach the bottom of the stained glass.

I sat on one of the oak benches pushed to the sides. 

The room was bustling with the excited buzz of students, all cramped in their pockets of emerald green, crimson red, sapphire blue and canary yellow. Huddled in groups of whispers or heads thrown back in intoxicating laughter. 

Laying beneath it all was apprehension. More nervous excitement. Because what we were all surrounding was the glowing Goblet of Fire. 

So ornate, with its gold engravings and elegant handles. It stood tall, towering, much taller than me. Wisps of blue light flickered in and out of its top, tickling the air above. 

No matter what people were doing, who they were with, all eyes kept glancing back to its presence. As if it was addicting, enticing. The flames danced differently every time, reaching out in different directions, illustrating different shapes.

I thought it was enchanting.

To my left was Hermione, with an open book in her hands. Not an unordinary sight. Except this time, I was pressed to her side, peering down to its pages along with her. I had recently become her shadow, following her everywhere, absorbing each and every slither of intelligence she gifted me. She was kind, letting me follow her like this, seeing as I rarely left her side.

My hair was damp, from running through the Hogwarts grounds that had been pelted with rain. My robes were soaked, currently laid out on the bench next to me, water dripping onto the floor. My uniform had been luckier, except for the skirt which was currently plastered to my frozen legs.

Harry and Ron sat beside my sodden robes, discussing the Triwizard tournament, and who they thought would be chosen from each school. However, the conversation seemed to be mostly one sided and focused around one particular point: Ron obsessing over Viktor Krum.

I looked up as I saw a new group appear at the door, cheering and pushing a boy towards the cup. They were Hufflepuffs.”That boy,” I turn to Hermione “I know him. He sat next to me on the first day at the feast,” I pointed to him and his group of friends. 

They were nearing the space now, where the Goblet of fire was surrounded by a white ring of light. 

“What's his name?”

She had raised her head from her book and now joined me looking at him across the room, ” That’s Cedric Diggory. He’s team captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.”

He finally reached the misty white line, stepped over it and stood right in front of the furious flames. He took one last look at the note in his hand before placing it into the goblets open mouth. It ate it up at once.

The room erupted and cheered as the flames spluttered.

Soon after, Fred and George came running in, cheering at the top of their lungs with mischievous grins painted on their faces.

They shoot me playful winks as they approach, with a glass vial clutched in each of their hands.

“We’ve done it!” they roar, as they show off these mysterious vials.

“It's not going to work!” I protest, tugging at Fred's arm. They sit either side of us, Fred dangerously close to my drenched robes and George to the left of Hermione. She nods in agreement. “You see that line surrounding the goblet? That's an age line, drawn by Dumbledore himself.” She points to where the line hovers above the stoned floor.

I turn to Fred, “You’d be foolish to think that an age potion would be enough to trick the magic.”

“See hanging around with Granger is rubbing off,” replies George, with the same grin still illustrated on his face. They really were hopeless clowns.

“Be careful, you're starting to resemble Snape.” added Fred from behind my shoulder.

“You see, that's why it's genius, because it is such a foolish idea.” said George. Or was it Fred? Despite being their relative, they really were exact replicas of each other, and that included their voices.

They step up onto the bench, knock back the contents of their vials and jump over the glowing ring.

I don't know what we expected to happen. For them to be thrown across the room, or for the ring to turn into a firing wall. We didn't expect what happened.

Which was nothing.

The crowd applauded them, either from pure amazement or gratitude for their fluke. They circled the Goblet, playing to the crowds like the performers they were. With their smiles of laughter replaced with frowns of concentration, they place their names into the sapphire flames. 

Throwing their future to fate.

The flames remained fluid.

“Yesssss!” they cheered in unison, raising their arms for a high five.

Except this hadn't been a fluke, and they had not been lucky. 

The flames reached out like long grasping fingers, and catapulted Fred and George across the room.

The room's cheers were now gasps of horror. They lay sprawled on the floor, and for a split second I feared they were dead.

Not dramatic at all.

Thankfully, they sat up, but something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Instead of their bright ginger hair, it turned a ghostly white, sprouting from their roots to the very tips as it grew longer and wiry. Clouds of beards appeared at their chins, thick and bushy, smothering the mouths that were once smiling. Their hands searched their new faces, exploring their suddenly aged appearance. Shock shot up and through them, evident in their widening eyes.

They looked up to one another and locked eyes. Still. They both whisper breathlessly, “You said”.

And then suddenly they launched on each other, becoming a heap of swinging arms and kicking legs on the floor.

The room's energy hadn’t seemed to be diminished as they jumped onto the benches or circled the fighting brothers.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Hermione returned to her book, a picture of disgust written over her face. I looked away from my embarrassing cousins and scanned the room. It seemed me and Hermione were a minority, as everyone else was far from unimpressed.

My gaze stopped at a boy.

With that white blonde hair and those steely blue eyes. Those steely blue eyes that seemed fixed on mine. I was looking at him and he was looking at me. And as much as my mind was telling me to stop, telling me to look away, telling me to return to the safety of the book with Hermione, I couldn't. I couldn’t pull my eyes away. His face seemed as conflicted as mine but he didn't look away either.

At that moment he seemed so different. 

He wasn't being cruel, pulling faces or glaring. His brows weren’t furrowed, they were still. His eyes weren't pinched, they were wide, and beautiful.

God they were beautiful. 

His lips weren’t pressed to a thin line, they were full, slightly parted. Relaxed.

Draco Malfoy was just looking and so was I. We were both vulnerable, and our faces gave away all emotion. And for a minute I could have sworn that he looked as if….

The sound of Harry’s voice snapped me out of my ‘trance’. 

“Wow, he must really hate you,” he sat down beside me, first on the puddle of my robes with a groan and then on a safer patch of the bench, “I haven't seen him give so much focus to something other than ridiculing innocent children or winning in Quidditch before.” 

I ripped my eyes away from his, shaking my head to try and remove my moment of weakness. I hope Harry hadn't noticed the flush on my cheeks or the crack in my voice when I replied, “ Yeah, he must.”

“I mean that's more of a death glare than he gives Harry.” said Ron.

Well, that's what I thought he said. I wasn't really listening. I didn't understand. I didn’t understand why he was staring at me. Was it a death stare? I hadn’t thought it was. His eyes weren't cold. He wasn't smirking or toying. He seemed open. Like there were no walls. There was no veil, or façade. 

Just him.

I looked up from where I had been watching my fidgeting hands back over to Draco. Well, back to the seat where Draco was sitting before now. 

The empty seat.


	13. Chapter 13

After watching Fred, George and Cedric place their names in the goblet of fire, followed by a few others from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, me and Hermione returned to the Gryffindor common room to do some homework.

We sat on either side of a round wooden table, with pieces of parchment, opened books, pots of ink and quills sprawled in front of us. One book lay open on a page about the founder of Hogsmeade, for my History of Magic homework. The slanted writing of the pages was spiked and sharp, and no matter how much I squinted I couldn't read the page. Instead, Hermione explained what I needed to know, and it seemed she knew more than the crinkled pages of the book could ever hold. 

She told me the story of the Hogsmeade founder, Hengist of Woodcroft. A small illustration of him sat at the edge of the page. He scowled at me behind his bushy brows. His hair was long and sat on his broad shoulders. He leant in closer, getting bigger and bigger and bigger.

I slammed the book shut.

Hermione went to dinner before me, where the boys were already most likely there, stuffing their greedy faces. I wish I was eating, as my belly made a low groan. Weasleys didn't take missing food lightly. The thought of food made my mouth moisten, and I shook my head to clear the thoughts away before it became too unbearable.

I needed to get this done.

I was still sitting at the round table, the history book pushed far to its edge (with ‘Hengist’ at a safe distance). The sound of the rain that pattered against the window behind me echoed in the still silence. The common room was empty now, aside from the odd student rushing downstairs to join the rest.

Ron had made up some elaborate story about how Professor McGonagall had allowed me to come to the Gryffindor Common room because I was new and he needed to help me. For some crazy reason, the Gryfinndors swallowed it up with no questions or objections.

I was very thankful for this.

You see, tonight is the night that the Goblet of Fire chooses the contestants that will be taking part in the Triwizard Tournament.

And at the current rate, I was going to miss it.

My hand moved hastily across the page, the quill desperately scratching at the creased parchment underneath its tip. My writing was getting sloppier with each new letter I wrote as I hurried to reach the end.

_ Hogsmeade remains to be the only non-muggle village in Britain, the last of its kind to remain in the UK Wizarding community. _

As my words flew across the page, I had to push the never-ending scroll further back along the table, to where it was already hanging over the edge in order to reach the bottom of my parchment. My writing had drastically shrunk as the white space at the bottom depleted. 

_ It is alleged that the founder of Hogsmeade, Hengist of Woodcroft, used to reside in his old home that was none other than the popular inn, The Three Broomsticks. _

With one last dot of ink at the end of the sentence, I was done.

I leant back, taking in the endless scroll of parchment that lay before me, smiled at my work and then fumbled around trying to stuff everything away into my leather satchel. Students did not usually take them to the Great Hall, but I had no time to return it to my own dormitory.

I looked around. I'm sure Hermione wouldn't mind if I put it safely in hers and got it after the announcement.

I quickly ran to her dorm, taking two of the steep stone steps at a time, left my satchel leant against the leg of her bed and raced down to the feast.

The corridors were empty, the sound of my feet slamming into the stone floors echoing against the walls. I clutched my robes in a fist with my left hand as I hurried down the stairs, praying they wouldn't decide to move as I ran towards the bottom. 

By the time I reached the wide open doors of the hall, my hair had stuck to my cheeks and my chest was heaving as it desperately tried to fill my lungs with air. I had just made it. The swarms of students were beginning to settle, making their way to their tables as Dumbledore made his way to the centre of the room.

I hurried past the crowds, whispering sorry as I bumped into many oblivious students until I reached Ron, Hermione and Harry on the benches that sat on either side of the Goblet.

“You're cutting it short, he’s about to start” said Ron as he shuffled over to make room for me to sit. I was still panting, attempting to reply to him. He just looked at me quizzically until Hermione answered for me, ”I told you Ron, she was finishing her homework. Although, I did think you would have been finished before now, you’ve missed dinner.”

Oh I wished she hadn't brought up food, as my stomach made another, ravenous protest.

When Hermione turned away, Ron leant towards me and whispered, “Don't worry, I saved you a few sandwiches. I had to stuff them in my pockets when no one is looking but they should be alright,” which made me flash him a big, toothy grin.

He winked at me just as Dumbledore began to speak.

The room went silent as all focus went to Dumbledore, in his sweeping robes, peering over his half-moon spectacles.

“It's the moment you’ve been waiting for, the champion selection.”

He waved his hand to dim the lanterns hanging from the ceiling, so that the main light was the flickering blue of the Goblet of fire, that cast shadows over everyone's faces.

The room fell silent, the excitement and apprehension hanging heavy in the air. Since arriving at school, this moment had been anticipated by everybody. 

And now it was finally here.

The only sound I could hear was the slight moan of Fred as George elbowed him in the side, whispering words that were too quiet to hear. I guessed it was something along the lines of  _ ‘It's your ruddy fault we aren’t getting chosen this evening.’ _ Fred looked as if he was about to object but Dumbledore's stern stare seemed to persuade him not too.

Three names were chosen from the Goblet, as each note fluttered into the sky when the flames turned to a ruby red. Viktor Krum for Durmstrang, Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons and lastly Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts. 

Dumbledore presented the Triwizard cup. It looked like it was carved from thick sheets of ice, with an ethereal glow shining on its transparent surface. It was like a prized diamond, sparkling. There were two silver handles beautifully carved, that wrapped around either side.

It was beautiful.

But it seemed that everyone's eyes weren't googling at the cup like they were meant to. Instead, they were looking back to the centre of the room, following Snape's concerned gaze as he moved closer to the golden Goblet of Fire.

Something was wrong. 

Something was very wrong.

The Goblet hadn't finished. Its blue flames reached out once again, and turned to their deep ruby red, like splashes of crimson wine. It spluttered and cracked, before throwing another note into the air. A fourth scrap of paper, with singed edges that blackened the tears.

A fourth name, when there were only meant to be three. 

When there had always been three.

It danced in the air, swaying down gracefully into the outstretched hand of Dumbledore.

And the next thing he said froze me in my seat. It constricted my lungs, as they protested against allowing me to fill them with air. It made my heart thud against my ribs, barely finishing one beat before beginning the next.

He looked down to the crumpled piece of paper in his palm and muttered “Harry Potter.” 

Harry stiffened next me, and I could have sworn I could hear his heart knocking as loudly as mine. His jaw stiffened, almost as if he was urging it not to go slack, and his mouth not to drop open. He seemed frozen in place, no movement except the frantic rise and fall of his chest. He looked at me, and his eyes were a picture of fear.

I don't really know what happened next. 

I just remember hearing Harry's name repeated again and again, each call getting louder and louder. I just remember the gasps of the students whose eyes were now boring into Harry. I remember placing one last reassuring hand on his arm, giving him one last tentative look before Hermione pushed him to meet Dumbledore in the middle of the room. 

I couldn't form words no matter how hard I tried. They caught in my throat.

_ It's going to be ok,  _ I should have said,  _ You'll be fine. _

Instead I just sat and stared. 

Nice one, Clover.

The last we saw of Harry was when he stumbled to the front of the room, past the hundreds of widened eyes locked onto him. Shouts rose from the crowd. 

_ He's a cheat! He's not even seventeen yet!  _

He looked around so confused, my heart ached for him. I felt that it would nearly break.

How could this have happened? He must have been so shell shocked.

I looked to Ron and Hermione, expecting the same reaction. Hermione looked just like me, except that I'm sure she seemed slightly more composed.

But Ron. Ron was surprising. He wasn't gazing, more like glaring, his eyes transfixed onto the back of Harry's skull. He seemed...angry.

I couldn't think of any reason why.

But I was too confused to find out.


End file.
